When It's Time to Say Goodbye
by HazyEpiphany
Summary: When Calvin is killed in action, his father is devastated. Who's there to comfort him? Hobbes is. Oneshot.


A/N: This is my first story, and I have no idea if I'm doing this right. If I'm doing this wrong, please feel free to correct me. Constructive criticism is very much appreciated! Also, I apologize if I mess up any of the military things as I have no experience with them.

Disclaimer**: **I don't own Calvin &amp; Hobbes or any other things I allude to nor do I get money through this.

* * *

**When It's Time to Say Goodbye**

It was an early Thursday morning when two uniformed men showed up at Calvin's house. One of the men rang the doorbell. After several minutes, the door cracked open and Calvin's father poked his head out, his eyes still heavy with sleep.

"Mr. Robin?" An officer inquired.

"Speaking," replied Calvin's father, rubbing his eyes groggily.

"Are you the father of Major Calvin Robin?" The officer questioned.

"Yes, he's my son," Calvin's father stopped rubbing his eyes. "Did something happen?"

The officer sighed heavily. "I'm afraid so. May we come in?"

Calvin's father ushered them in, worry showing on his face. He then called his wife down, and they stood before the men.

"I am sorry to say that your son is MIA, presumably killed in action," the officer stated, "My deepest condolences. Here's the contact information so you can be notified as more information about the funeral time." He handed a slip of paper to Calvin's father.

They then turned and walked away, leaving Calvin's parents shellshocked, leaning on each other for support.

The funeral was held a week later. Calvin's father was stone faced, visibly suppressing his emotions. Calvin's mother hid nothing, and her shoulders shook with her sobs.

"He was a good man," a soldier was saying. "When we were ambushed on our way to Ghanzi, Calvin took machine gun fire meant for me. His sacrifice allowed me to escape, but he and the rest of my platoon were killed. When we later returned to retrieve and identify bodies, Calvin was nowhere to be found. It's assumed that a looter or wild animal dragged him off." The soldier's voice caught. "We all respected him. He was a great man who really, truly cared for us. He always put us before himself. His sacrifice will not be forgotten."

Calvin's empty coffin was lowered into the ground as all gathered looked on solemnly.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Calvin's father sat with Hobbes on a tree stump at the top of Calvin's favorite sledding hill. He gazed out at the sprawling forest below and at the sparkling pond where Calvin had often crashed.

"Why did this have to happen?" He turned to the stuffed animal. "Why?" He shot to his feet. "My son! My son!" His face was twisted in anguish. Sobbing angrily, he began to vent his anger on a nearby tree. His knuckles began to bleed. And still he he continued. Skin was ripped from his hands. And still he pounded on the tree.

"You know, you really should stop, Christopher." A somber voice came from behind. Calvin's father turned slowly. He knew that voice.

"Tigger?!" He exclaimed incredulously. He walked over and felt for the bouncy tiger's furry cheek with disbelief. He then grasped its paw with both hands as if he thought it would disappear. "Is it really you? What happened? Where did you go?" Questioned tumbled out of his mouth. "One day you never came back to life! I kept you for a long time and gave you to Calvin! When he went on about you being alive, I hoped…" He trailed off. "But I never saw you again.

"You grew up, Christopher Robin. It happens. I understand." The tiger smiled tenderly.

"Why did Calvin have to go off to Afghanistan?" Christopher shook his head sadly. "I told him it was too dangerous but he still went!"

"He was a man of character. Loyal to his country. He believed in freedom and was willing to die in order to protect it," Tigger said steadily. "You raised him well. Even though he was a terror as a child."

Christopher smiled and sat down heavily on the tree stump. "Thank you. I'm glad I could raise such a fine you man."

Tigger nodded. "You know, he always loved and respected you. Even when it seemed he didn't."

"Even on my camping trips?"

Tigger smirked. "Especially those. It made boot camp so much easier for him."

"You know," Christopher remarked, "I always wondered why Calvin called you Hobbes."

Tigger sighed nostalgically. "It's a memory I'll forever hold dear to my heart. You see, it all began when you took Calvin to see the tigers at the zoo. He wanted to take one home. You wisely refused. Remember when Calvin asked what to do if he caught a tiger? Well, he set a can of tuna out and rigged a decent trap. When he came back to check on his trap, he saw me hopping madly about trying to escape. So he called me 'Hops.' Only, he had a runny nose and it came out like 'Hobbes,' so that's just what he's called me ever since."

"Wow," Christopher sighed, "An extraordinary story for an extraordinary friendship."

"Yes," Hobbes smiled, "We were close friends. As close as can be. We were best friends."

It was getting dark. Christopher knew that he would need to return to his home sooner or later. "Thanks for talking to me, Hobbes," he stood up, "I'm glad I could see you again."

"I'm glad too." Hobbes winked. "Now you go get some sleep." He waved cheerfully. Then he was gone. An old, well-loved stuffed tiger leaned lopsidedly on a tree stump.

Christopher smiled. He gingerly picked up the little stuffed tiger and set off for the house with a light heart and a big grin on his face.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. If there are any grammatical errors and such, please point them out to me and I'll try to fix them as soon as I figure this newfangled site out. R and R!

Please review as it really helps my writing. I'll always respond unless I suddenly become too popular (in which case I'll try to) or I die. I hope this story really pulled at your heart because I already have many more planned out and written/half-written.


End file.
